


Earned It

by GoldStarGrl



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Light BDSM, M/M, Open Marriage, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spanking, emotional catharsis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:28:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28002435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldStarGrl/pseuds/GoldStarGrl
Summary: They're fine.He’sthe one exposed, jeans and boxers shoved down to his knees. So he’s going to stare at the expensive, geometric floor of the pool house like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.
Relationships: Amanda LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence, Daniel LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence
Comments: 11
Kudos: 96





	Earned It

**Author's Note:**

> You can find the full CK kink meme prompt [here.](https://cobrakaikink.dreamwidth.org/702.html?thread=17854#cmt17854) I went a little off the rails after too many glasses of wine, as is my way (and Johnny's.)
> 
> Honestly you can read this as a sequel to [ lost my head in san francisco](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27648866/chapters/67653413) if you want, those LaRussos love taking their open marriage to the next level.

Of course the LaRussos’ pool house is nicer than any apartment in his entire neighborhood. 

The floor seems to be some kind of marble mosaic material, cut into little hexagonal shapes. It’s quality work, looks like it was put in custom. Johnny doesn’t think he’s ever spent this much time thinking about tile in his _life_ , not even the ones he installed. 

Of course, he’s never been laid out over Amanda LaRusso’s knee before, either. 

He presses his hands and the balls of his feet down to try to keep his balance – and not crush her under his weight – but she’s the opposite of uncomfortable in her plush high-back chair, composed in floral yoga pants, ankles crossed like the queen. 

She’s fine. _He’s_ the one whose exposed, his jeans and boxers pulled down to his knees. So he’s going to stare at the expensive, geometric floor like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. 

The other option is making eye contact with Daniel, sitting against the opposite wall on a bench he assumes is for taking off your shoes before you swim, watching the tableau like it's his favorite TV show. Amanda’s sharp, manicured nails drag down his bare ass, his thighs. A shiver runs down his spine.

“You’re so pale,” she remarks, and then slaps him lightly, almost playful. “Did you burn every day, growing up here?” 

Johnny shifts in her lap, doesn’t say anything. He’s buzzed off the cocktails they offered him when he first came over – _help everyone loosen up_ – but not drunk, not dizzy. The alcohol dulls his sharp edges, keeps him focused on her touch, the other hand pressing down firmly on the small of his back. 

_Deep breathes, Lawrence._

“Did he burn, hon?” she asks her husband over his back, conversationally. “Did his skin get all pretty–” two sharp slaps, right on the seat of his ass. “–and red?”

“Not sure,” Daniel says. Johnny can feel him smirking, like it’s another smack on his skin. “I never noticed, always too busy fighting for my life, when he was around.”

“That’s right.” Amanda rubs his pinkening skin. “You really should be punished for that, shouldn’t you?”

She spanks Johnny again, much harder. He sucks in air sharply through his teeth. Damn, he didn’t know she had it in her. Maybe Pilates isn’t _totally_ stupid. 

Daniel crouches down on the floor in front of him, two fingers lifting his chin, forcing blue eyes to meet brown.

“Answer the question.”

Johnny curls his toes in his sneakers. He nods, digging his chin into his chest. 

“What was that? _Use-your-words_.” Amanda punctuates the last three words with smacks and Daniel laughs. He’s enjoying this way too much. Johnny wishes he’d had one more drink. He jerks his head out of LaRusso’s hand before he rushes it out, barely audible.

“ _Yes_.”

Amanda’s hand starts to fall heavier on his ass, over and over. Loud enough that he worries the sounds of the – he cringes, can’t even make himself say the word _spanking_ in his head _–_ is echoing off the marble, the cement around the pool. The sting spreads, pulses in his skin, and he bucks his hips against Amanda’s thighs. She pushes his back down again.

“Stop squirming,” Daniel murmurs. He’s back on the bench, sitting cross-legged like the jackass he is. His eyelids are heavy, and his hand drifts lazily to his crotch, palming himself through his sweatpants. “You're a tough guy, right? Gonna take whatever Mandy gives you?”

“He’s so much easier to manage like this.” Amanda applies her hands to Johnny’s thighs. "If your high school self could see him now–”

“–he’d think he’d died and gon'ta heaven.” Daniel smiled at his wife. “Maybe Johnny needs to count them. Help him focus.”

“Oh, _can it_ with your zen bullshit.” Johnny bursts out without thinking, and Amanda spanks him _hard_ , on a sensitive spot of his upper thigh. “ _J esus_.”

“Hurts?” Amanda rubs the spot even as she says it, taking some of the sting out of it. “You hurt Daniel. Didn’t you?”

Another smack when he takes too long to answer.

“Yeah. Yes.” He _told them_ he could do this. He's not gonna pussy out now, even if his eyes are starting to blur, filmed over wet.

“Good boy.” Back to rubbing, and he presses his hands hard against the floor, so hard they tremble a little. He _knows_ she can feel his cock filling out, getting riled up like some kind of freak from this. Whips and chains, he’s heard of. But _LaRusso and his wife_ , the world's dorkiest suburban swingers, doing it for Johnny? He’s practically certifiable.

Amanda’s still talking. “So think of this as…”

“Balance.”

Daniel walks behind him, running a hand down his back; his t-shirt is starting to stick to his skin with sweat. It feels nice, these two gentle touches at once, until Daniel’s hands are around his shoe, lifting his foot up.

“Hey, don’t fuck with my leg.” He twists his head around, feels his face heat up at the sight of his own upturned ass turning dark pink, jeans tight and tangled around his knees. Daniel raises an eyebrow.

“Relax. Although, glass houses…”

He’s going to snap at him again, but is distracted when Amanda combs his hair with his fingers, away from his forehead. 

“ _Shhh,_ you're okay,” she says, and the gesture is enough to settle him for a moment. Daniel’s fingers are on the laces of his right Van, untying it, pulling his sneaker off. He hands it off to Amanda before Johnny can ask what the hell he’s playing at, and she smacks his ass with the _bottom of his own shoe_.

A little yelp catches in the back of his throat. He jolts forward, but Daniel’s hands – he knows they’re Daniel's, big and rough and definitely _not_ helping the situation between his legs – are on his hips, pulling him back into place.

“She’s going to give you five more,” he murmurs in Johnny’s ear, breath hot against his skin. “You’re gonna count them. Okay?”

His hand is in Johnny’s hair, jerking his head up to look at him. It sears his scalp, and the new kind of pain pulls him to the surface. He can do this. He juts his chin out defiantly at LaRusso.

“Okay.”

Amanda packs a wallop with his shoe, a solid _thud,_ shit, that's way worse than her chick hand. He openly flinches, why doesn’t he have smaller feet? “One.”

“Say you’re sorry,” she commands, as Daniel settles on the floor in front of Johnny, inches from his face. He could be mistaken for meditating, if his olive skin wasn’t so flushed, his breathing so heavy. He sticks a hand down his pants, starts stroking himself off. 

“I-what?” Johnny’s actually aching, not just his sore ass, but from not being able to touch himself, the pressure of his cock pinned against Amanda’s legs. She kneads a handful of his flesh roughly, pinching the red skin. 

“Tell him you’re sorry for all the crap you pulled, or I’m starting over.”

She uses the Van to smack him on each cheek briskly. _Thwack, thwack._ Daniel’s hand is moving faster, he has to be close, now.

“Two. Three. ’m sorry.” It sticks in his throat like peanut butter. 

“Speak up, Johnny,” Daniel says, breathlessly. Another hard hit, and fuck, it stings, it _hurts,_ he’s gonna come on Amanda’s fucking LuluLemons. 

“Four. I already said–”

“Look him in the eye,” she says, using the toe of the shoe to trace a figure-eight on his ass cheek. 

Johnny exhales, holding onto Amanda’s ankle for balance. Daniel's free hand is on his jaw, holding his head, gently. His eyes have little flecks of gold in them, his pupils are blown out. 

He's just a guy. Not his enemy, not the harbinger of doom on his young life. A skinny little twerp whose body he almost broken into a million pieces because of he got in the way of his own blinding anger.

Just Daniel LaRusso.

“Come on, Johnny,” he murmurs, nudging the tip of his nose against his. “Come on.”

Amanda spanks him hard, his skin must be fucking crimson, and it feels so _good,_ LaRusso’s touch feels so _good,_ what is this pressure behind his eyes–

“Five. I’m _sorry_.” He moans, and Daniel lets his head drop. Precum is leaking out of his cock, damp onto Amanda’s pants, but she’s not spanking anymore. She’s running her fingers through his hair again, letting his shoe fall to the ground. 

“Doesn’t that feel better?” She asks, but he can’t answer, he’s overcome with how raw his body feels, his brain still buzzing and warm and turned on, but also, weirdly–

Clear.

Daniel lets his forehead press against Johnny’s, moaning as he comes in own pants. He kisses the skin under Johnny’s eye as he works himself through it. 

“Not bad, Johnny,” he murmurs. Amanda shifts on her perch, and he’s sure if he put his hand between her thighs she’d be soaking. "I should take a picture. Mandy left some wicked handprints.”

“Hell of a woman you got here,” he manages, because he doesn’t know what else to say, his voice is _wrecked_ , his eyes are almost as damp as the stain he's leaving on Amanda's pants.

She gives him another tap, gentle. “Behave.”

Daniel uses his thumb to swipe the wetness from Johnny's eyes, fast and discreet. He kisses his forehead, murmurs something that sounds like _it's okay, breathe._

He collects himself, comes up to stand over the back of the chair. He kisses Amanda’s neck, the underside of her jaw. “He’s right.” Daniel reaches down and splays a hand over Johnny’s ass, cool against the heated skin, lets it snake down his thigh.

“He’s so _hard,_ look at him,” Amanda teases.

LaRusso's hand is around the tip of his aching cock, and Johnny bucks into it, desperate for relief. Daniel removes his hand, goes back to rubbing Johnny’s skin in big, lazy circles.

“Ah-ah. Not yet. Amanda was so good to punish you, wasn’t she?”

“Yes,” he answers verbally on the first try this time; it’s less humiliating than waiting for them to prompt him.

Amanda’s knees spread apart underneath him, and Daniel’s rolling her yoga pants down her hips. Johnny stands up, surprised his shaky legs can even hold him.

“Why don’t you thank her, before we take care of you?”

“You’re such a _dick_ , LaRusso,” he says, but there's no real venom in it. He settles onto his knees, tongue lapping against her cunt, air coming into his lungs in full, satisfying breathes. Daniel’s behind him, pressing tickling kisses in his hair, hand on his ass, rubbing the worst of the pain out of his skin.

He does feel better. 


End file.
